


The Farthest Thunder That I Heard Was Nearer Than the Sky

by alyse



Category: Dark Angel
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-06
Updated: 2010-01-06
Packaged: 2017-10-05 21:27:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alyse/pseuds/alyse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seattle isn't a place of extreme weather, just of extreme wetness.  But tonight there's a storm on the horizon and it promises to be <b>something</b>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I originally started this story in March 2007, and it's taken until today before I've finally managed to finish it. I'm therefore kind of hoping that [](http://mandragora1.livejournal.com/profile)[**mandragora1**](http://mandragora1.livejournal.com/) thinks it's worth the wait, as I've been tormenting her with the prospect of Max/Alec almost since the beginning ::g::
> 
> The title comes from The Farthest Thunder That I Heard, by Emily Dickinson. Many thanks to [](http://aithine.livejournal.com/profile)[**aithine**](http://aithine.livejournal.com/) for the beta.

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |   
[fandom: dark angel](http://alyse.livejournal.com/tag/fandom:+dark+angel), [fic fandom: dark angel](http://alyse.livejournal.com/tag/fic+fandom:+dark+angel), [fic genre: het](http://alyse.livejournal.com/tag/fic+genre:+het), [fic pairing: max/alec](http://alyse.livejournal.com/tag/fic+pairing:+max/alec)  
  
---|---  
  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Dark Angel or its characters. This is fanfiction, written for love of the show.

**Spoilers:** Set late Season 2, but before _Freak Nation_

***

_The air is heavy, heavy as a truck  
We need the rain to wash away our bad luck_  
\- Electrical Storm, U2

Over the years since she settled in Seattle, Max had grown used to its quirks; grown used to them to the point where she'd grown comfortable with them. Too comfortable, sometimes, she thought, and the thought itched away in the back of her mind, leaving her tense and irritable with no way to scratch.

The itch was bad tonight, putting her on edge even though there were far worse places to be, especially for her. Seattle was mundane. It wasn't a place of extreme weather, just of extreme wetness. The storms that blew in from Seattle's south were like the gangs running in that area - all bluster and no muscle. The winds might carry water from Puget Sound and dump it by the bucketful over the city, but they lacked the bitter knife's edge that she remembered from Wyoming and the rain seldom froze.

There were no tornadoes, no hurricanes. When it snowed, the snow didn't lie thick and crisp on the ground, crackling beneath her feet as she ran. Instead, it skulked wetly in corners and turned to black sludge on the sidewalks, making everything dreary. In summer, the sun didn't bake the roads and the asphalt stayed firm under her wheels, and in spring and autumn the rain that fell - what seemed endlessly some months - was wet and dull and grey. But dull and grey made for a good place to blend in, even for someone as non-normal, as non-**ordinary** as she was.

But tonight there was an edge in the cool and still air. There was a storm gathering on the horizon and for once it promised to be **something**.

Max flicked her hair back and turned her face up to the sky, feeling the first droplets hitting hard against her skin. They were icy cold and, as they struck, she hissed out through her teeth. Her breath blossomed foggily and she huffed out again, this time just to see it.

The atmosphere was heavy with promise but it was the kind of promise only she appreciated. The rest of Seattle seemed to be scurrying away along the street, seeking cover from the raindrops that now fell with heavy splatters against the pavement. She ignored them, staying in the shadows but still under the sky, raising her hands a little so that the raindrops bounced off them and the hairs on her arms rose, pricking tendrils of tension.

The promise was kept; lightning flashed across the sky to the east as she turned her face up again. She closed her eyes, basking in the aftershock. She shouldn't have been able to feel it at that distance - not even with her enhanced senses - but it thrummed through her anyway. It was electric - literally - and for that split second she felt **alive**, every nerve, every follicle singing. Alive in a way she hadn't felt for some time. Everything - Logan, the virus, the ever increasing threat of exposure - slipped away and left nothing behind but **this**.

She took a deep breath, held it deep inside her, crisp and sharp and raw, before letting it go - slowly, over several beats - and watching it crystallise in the air again.

_One, two, three, four..._

Behind her the door to _Crash_ swung open, a sudden burst of music and voices that almost drowned out the slow, low rumble of thunder that rolled overhead. When it swung shut again she was no longer alone.

"Huh," said Alec, peering out into the street and hunching his shoulders against a flurry of raindrops, blown into their meagre shelter as the air finally stirred sluggishly and a gust of wind swirled in their direction. "Looks like it's going to be a doozy of a storm."

A 'doozy'. She'd long since stopped ragging on him for the out of date slang that Manticore had taught him but he still came out with the odd phrase that made her roll her eyes. It may have happened less and less as he'd grown accustomed to the world outside - transgenics were nothing if not adaptable - but even so. A 'doozy'. It was definitely an Alec word - all slick and smooth and yet still not quite fitting in, not completely.

For once she kept her mouth shut, locking the sarcasm inside. She didn't want to fight with him, not tonight. Not even with the energy - electricity - singing through her. There were other things she wanted to do instead; vague, unformed thoughts she didn't examine too closely. But not fight, not tonight. Flight, maybe. Or fuck.

But that thought only brought her back to Logan, and she wasn't thinking about Logan.

Not tonight.

As if in response to his words - or her thoughts - the skies suddenly opened, the rain coming down thick and fast and **hard**. Raindrops bounced off the pavement, splashing back up into their little alcove, a shower from below. She shook the droplets off herself like a cat but Alec moved back, the look on his face one of comical surprise. Max smiled, sharp and feral if he'd cared to see it, amused, for once, at his antics. Every nerve ending in her body still felt as though it was singing and lately she'd been feeling charitable towards her fellow transgenic.

The same strange tension she felt seemed to be rising in Alec too - she could sense that somehow, hyperaware of him, of the way that his broad shoulders flexed as he leant forward again, keeping as much of him out of the rain as he could even as he peered up into the sky. The look on his face was now fascinated, pupils wide as he took it all in. It only served to cement that fellow feeling, especially when a droplet landed on his face and his cheek twitched, his eyes gleaming brightly as another bright flash of lightning sparked across the sky.

It was closer this time and it made her reckless.

"Hey," she said, raising her voice over the rolling thunder, riding more closely on the heels of the flash as the storm moved in on the city. Alec turned towards her, his expression quizzical. "Want to go for a ride?"

Flight, maybe. Feeling her baby eat up the miles beneath her wheels. That would serve to soothe her if anything would.

He glanced back out into the night, his eyebrows raised as he considered it. She half expected him to buckle, to smarm his way out of it, but this was Alec she was talking about. Alec who, in spite of all of his bitching, didn't back down from a challenge even - especially - when it was the smart thing to do.

It would be a little hypocritical of her to call him on it. Perhaps it was something in the genes.

When he looked back, it was to scan her face, trying to read her even as his eyebrows settled into a stubborn line that she was starting to recognise. She tried not to tense, to give anything away. The offer was casual. Flight, that was all.

After a moment, his lips turned up into that smirk that was quintessentially 'Alec'.

"Why not?" And there it was, to go with the smirk - that typical Alec challenging look, the one she knew too well. The one that said he saw right through her and most of the time liked what he saw but that he had no qualms telling her she was full of shit when he didn't.

This time it seemed as though this time he liked what he saw, no reservations.

"What did you have in mind?"

What did she have in mind? She wasn't sure - all she knew was the urge to **move**, to give in to the energy thrumming through her, to race, to ride, to soar. It made her restless, another itch that needed to be scratched. She scanned the horizon, her eyes automatically coming to rest on a familiar landmark.

"Race you to the Needle?"

He snorted. "Right, Max. We're in the middle of a thunderstorm and of course **you** want to head for the highest point around."

She flashed him a smile, all teeth and taunt. "Scared?"

He bristled, as she'd known he would, but covered it well, returning her smirk with a bright one of his own. "Think you can keep up?"

Her turn to snort. "Like I don't always kick your ass."

"Again with my ass, Max. I'm beginning to think you're obsessed."

She reached out to smack him on the arm but he'd already moved away, the reflex ingrained in him by now. He didn't even look at her as he did so. Instead, his eyes scanned the street, assessing the traffic - or lack thereof.

"How do you want to start this? Go on three or just -"

He took off suddenly, just like she'd expected him to. Manticore didn't train them to fight fair and - for all of Alec's insistence that he couldn't hit a girl - he'd learned that lesson well. Not even eight months out of Manticore could rid him of it entirely.

She knew him - and thought she was ready for him - but when he blurred it took her a split second to catch on, to adjust her stride and her speed to match his. Stupid, stupid. Like they needed any more attention. He was just lucky no one was around and she was so going to kick his ass for this. When she reached the idiot.

It was only when Alec came to an abrupt halt at the corner that she finally caught up with him, both caught off guard and caught by Alec. He wrapped one arm around her as she passed him, already starting to slow down, and jerked her sharply back against him.

He was laughing, the ass, putting her back on her feet and steadying her as he peered around the corner, warm and solid against her back.

She followed his gaze and realised why he'd stopped. They no longer had the city to themselves. There were people on the next street, people hurrying with hoods up or coats over their heads and barely aware of their surroundings in their rush for shelter, but she got it. She'd been made to be quick on the uptake and Alec, apparently, hadn't been made to be quite as stupid as she'd thought.

When she twisted her head to look at him, he was grinning at her, his eyes lit up with mischief. He was barely out of breath, despite the speed they'd both been moving at, and she felt the laughter that shook through his body where it pressed against hers. His lips were parted and with each huff of laughter water vapour puffed out, clean and white, into the night air.

She grinned back, shark-like and promising retribution. When his grip on her loosened - although his amusement didn't dim - she stepped back and held his unrepentant gaze. The rain had dampened his hair, spiking it up and flushing his cheeks, and the light from behind him seemed to hang, like a halo, around his head.

He looked nothing like an angel.

She softened her smile into something uncharacteristically sweet and watched as the amusement faded a little and his eyes widened in confusion.

"Three," she said and took off like a bat out of hell, even though she didn't have any bat in her DNA, as far as she knew.

She kept her speed this time to something approaching 'normal' and Alec did likewise. His legs were longer, eating up the streets even without his transgenic abilities, and he might even have gained on her if he'd concentrated on running rather than laughing. She grinned again even though she knew that this time he couldn't see it, caught up in the sheer exhilaration of moving, in the electricity still in the atmosphere. When the opportunity arose, she swerved, splashing him with one of the puddles now forming in the uneven streets. Her grin grew even wider when she heard his muttered curse behind her, audible to her even over the drumming of the rain.

Splashing him might not make him any wetter but it was the principle of the thing that counted, even if she wasn't entirely sure of the principles at stake.

Their bikes weren't far away from _Crash_, hidden somewhere safe and secure in one of the many abandoned buildings that littered Seattle. She couldn't remember which one of them had found it first - okay, she could and it was Alec - but it didn't matter because they tended to park them side by side, even if they arrived and left at different times. It felt right in a way that she didn't want to examine too closely and probably still wouldn't have been able to explain even if she had. She didn't worry about it - it was barely a blip on her radar, not with White on their heels and a virus eating away at what was left of her 'not like that' relationship.

She beat him to the bikes, although only by a fraction of a second, her shorter stature meaning that it was marginally easier for her to duck under the boards that hid the hole in the perimeter fence of the empty lot. It gave her the edge and she was damned well going to use it; Manticore hadn't made her a chump either, no matter what Alec thought or said, and she'd use whatever advantage she could when it came to dealing with him.

He was hard on her heels and, as she slowed, drew up beside her, still smiling. She flashed him a grin, magnanimous in victory, and he rolled his eyes as he leant back against his bike, folding his arms and watching her over the top of them. His ever present smirk was in place, his body language casual, but his eyes now were calm, watchful. Still amused, but there was a slightly appraising look in them that unsettled her.

But Max was never one to remain unsettled for long. Not when she could do something else instead. Carpe diem and all that crap. She took the initiative again and, again, he let her.

"Think you can keep up on that thing?" she asked, nodding rather dismissively at his Ducati. "Not like it has a great deal of power. Not like my baby." She smoothed a hand reflexively over the supple leather of her bike's seat.

He frowned. "Don't diss my ride, Max."

Diss? Oh, man. She couldn't let that little idiom slide. She smirked and opened her mouth to call him on it, but once again he beat her to the punch.

"Just because you have to ride something that big and clunky and obvious." He smirked at her again, his momentary pique over with. "Tell me, Max. Are we compensating for something?"

She cocked her hip and glared at him. "**You** might be."

He swung his leg over the saddle and grinned at her again, all cockiness and attitude. "Oh, I'd say not needing a ride that screams 'look at me' pretty much says I'm secure."

She waited until he'd put on his sunglasses - it was the only concession he'd make to riding semi-safely (and she didn't blame him for that one - grit in the eye at high speed hurt like a **bitch**, even if you were transgenic) - before she mounted her own bike. She patted it gently as she did so, a mute apology for Alec's harsh words, and scowled when Alec caught the move and his smirk deepened.

"Whatever," she said. "Just get the door and no comments about how I just like something hard and throbbing between my legs because I've heard it all before and from better men than you, pretty boy."

His laugh this time was delighted, like he wished he'd thought of it and was as amused as hell that she'd said it anyway. She let her gaze trace the line of his throat as he threw his head back, feeling vaguely envious that he could still find that kind of delight in something, even something so stupid. There'd been a time when she could, back when she could just enjoy being alive and free, even with Lydecker on her trail. Back before her life grew so damned complicated.

She gunned her engine, drawing his attention back to her. "You ready?"

She knew what the answer to that was going to be even before he said it, and let the momentary pang slide over her and away, letting it go. Biggs had been Alec's friend, not hers. She'd barely known him and if Alec was okay with invoking those memories she sure as hell wasn't going to say anything about it.

"I'm always ready, Max. You should know that." Yep. Bang on cue. Predictable, but somehow comforting for it.

She let him roll ahead of her, following slowly in his wake and waiting while he dismounted and pulled back the boards so that they could ride on out.

"So someone really said...?" he asked as she rolled past him. He anticipated a thwack on the arm - once again pulling back before she could deliver it - so she kicked out at him instead, catching him high on the thigh and grinning at him as she motored on out and he was left glaring at her back.

The lightning was still flashing across the sky and she watched it while she waited for him, idly counting the seconds between the flash and the roll of thunder in her head, calculating the distance. It would be accurate - her time sense always was, Normal's complaints aside.

The streets were deserted now, glistening wetly in the few streetlamps still working and in the flashes across the night sky. The rain had eased a little, but still formed a haze around the isolated fluorescent lights dotted here and there. She peeled one of the wet strands of hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear, turning her head to watch Alec pull the boards back into place and remount his bike.

"You want to do this on three?" he asked as he pulled up beside her, the rumble of his engine softer than her Ninja and a little less rough. "Or do you want to cheat again?"

He tensed his body, although his expression remained amused. He was obviously waiting for another of those swipes that had grown less heated and more playful the longer that they had known each other. Time to change her direction of attack.

She smiled sweetly again and again she pushed him off balance. She could see that in the way the lines around his eyes changed, slackened, even though his eyes remained hidden by his sunglasses.

"Three."

This time he was ready for her. He matched her speed as she roared along the street and around the corner, bending her body with ease to take the corner smoothly. He was right behind her, and she caught him in the periphery of her vision, just as comfortable on his bike as she was.

Something in her eased, a tension she'd lived with for so long she barely noticed it any more. Nothing to do with the storm and little to do with Alec, not really. She opened the throttle, felt that tension ease further, even as the muscles in her thighs, her arms took up the burden, keeping the power of her Ninja in check. Alec kept pace with her all of the way, matching it, one edging forward as the other pulled back then swapping places. It became more of a dance than a race and she let go, let herself fall into the rhythm of it, feeling the road roll by beneath her wheels and knowing that Alec would be with her all the way.

He seemed to pick up on it too, no longer challenging her but keeping pace, now crossing in front of her, now letting her cross in front of him. She stole a glance to the side as she passed him, taking in, in that brief moment, the focused look on his face, almost peaceful in the way that he moved with his machine.

She'd never seen him this calm, this... content. Almost happy. Like her, there was always something stirring below Alec's façade, something wary and watchful and never fully at ease, even if no one else noticed it, buying into the act.

She'd bought into the act at first, not wanting to see past what Alec projected. It had been easier - safer - that way, for her at least. Smart Alec. Someone shallow and self-centred. Someone to blame. Someone to bear all the anger she carried around inside, eating away at her because she let it, because the emptiness was more bearable.

That she should see past it now - should care whether or not Alec was happy... The thought unsettled her and so she did what she always did when unsettled - picked up the pace, forcing him to do likewise, losing herself in the rhythms of action. It still fell short of being a race, but they were moving fast enough now to force her to stop thinking and instead concentrate on the road with the same kind of single minded focus that Alec was showing.

There was only one checkpoint between _Crash_ and the Space Needle, but it still meant that they had to slow down and deal with the kind of crap that came from living in a city under siege. She stayed silent during it, flashing her badge at the Sector Cop instead of speaking and working on projecting an air of '_it's been a long and shitty night and now I'm headed home_'.

It wasn't difficult. She felt no need to talk - her whole being was now focused on riding, on just **feeling**, and she didn't want to lose that to extraneous chatter. Alec seemed to be of the same mind, for once not babbling inanely the way he did when he was bored and, when she stole a look at him, his gaze was distant, focused on the Needle, and his face was unreadable.

It unsettled her again and she had to fight the urge to punch him on the arm just to get a reaction, to get him looking at her even if it also meant him whining and bitching. To fight the urge to make herself the focus of his attention again, even if it came with theatrical arm rubbing and that little half-smile that gave lie to all his complaints.

She focused instead on the Needle, the outline blurring a little in the rain. It was softer now, no longer hissing and hail like, just a steady, monotonous downpour. Over the top of it, she could hear Alec breathing beside her, slow and even, so different from the slightly wheezing breath of the sector cop giving their documents a cursory glance. If she concentrated, she could almost feel the heat radiating from Alec's body, inches from hers as they stood side by side in the rain.

She stole a glance at him, watching the water sliding down the side of his face, dripping from the damp tendrils of hair hanging by his ears.

He turned his head, caught her eye. Raised his eyebrow, his expression quizzical, and she looked away again, staring back at the Needle. It was safer that way, tuning him out and listening instead to her bike clicking steadily behind them as the engine cooled, the sound as warm and steady as the rhythm of Alec's heartbeat.

There were no smart comments from either of them as the cop handed their papers back, scuttling rapidly back into his checkpoint hut; no banter or give and take as they mounted their bikes again. Just the road rolling back beneath their wheels, throwing up water as they moved in sync towards their destination, Alec a warm and steady presence by her side, half a step behind.


	2. The Farthest Thunder That I Heard Was Nearer Than the Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seattle isn't a place of extreme weather, just of extreme wetness. But tonight there's a storm on the horizon and it promises to be **something**.

The storm was building up to another crescendo as they finally reached the foot of the Needle, lightning flashing across the sky and the slow rumble of thunder following hard on its heels. It put her on edge again, twitching with the need to move, her fingers flexing impatiently as she waited for Alec to pull the boards back behind their bikes. Another abandoned parking lot, filled with rubbish and dark as night. Story of her goddamned life.

The darkness was no obstacle, not to her. Nor to Alec, who paused for a moment, head cocked, listening to the thunder overhead. It didn't remain dark for long, another flash lighting up the garage. As it pulsed between the boards, it threw sharp, striated shadows across the concrete floor. It lit up Alec's face for a moment, too, his eyes shining in the gloom like the cat he at least partly was. For a split second, she could see everything clearly, stark against that white light - the way that his pupils were blown, wide and dark, his lips slightly parted as he stood there, body turned towards the light. He looked gleeful and entranced both at once.

She told herself that the sudden twisting in her gut was impatience, and headed for the stairs out of the underground parking lot, not waiting for him to catch up. He would anyway - he always did, even when she **wanted** to shake him off.

Tonight she didn't want to, and it was easier not to think about why. Easier just to keep on moving, concentrating on the pounding in her blood and not the pounding of her heart.

There were 832 steps to the top of the Needle; she'd counted them more than once, each one falling steadily beneath her feet as she raced up to what had once - according to OC - been a restaurant. This time she took every one of them with Alec hard on her heels. He was almost soundless, but she could sense him anyway, the back of her neck prickling at his closeness.

_Catch me if you can._

He didn't catch her, not this time. He just let her set the pace just like he'd let her set the pace of their race through the streets, let her burn the tension out of herself. She wasn't used to this - to him not pushing her. It unsettled her, and she was beginning to **hate** being left unsettled by Alec, uncertain of the next step and not wanting to fall.

She picked up her speed until she was almost flying up the structure, until even her enhanced lungs were straining with the effort. _Flight, fight or fuck._ Those she could deal with.

She hit the top of the stairs just as another flash of lightning tore across the sky. It lit up what had been the restaurant, tables now broken and seating torn, but she didn't stop. Instead, she headed straight for the window, inexorably drawn by the tempest outside.

She'd reached it, fingers already curling around the twisted metal window frame, leaning outside for a better look when Alec finally caught up with her. Grabbed her too, pulling her back against his body again, one strong arm around her waist and his body hard and tense behind her.

She stiffened instinctively.

"Are you **trying** to become crispy fried Max?" His voice was exasperated and his grip didn't loosen, not even when she twisted experimentally, caught between the fury outside and the fury slowly starting to build within her. "Damn it, Max. What the hell's gotten into you? Not even transgenics are shock proof."

She knew that - Alec had proved it to her with the aid of a neat little taser. One of these days she was going to return the favour - find one and then shove it up his **ass**.

She was starting to pull away, more firmly this time, welcoming the anger and the familiarity of it - and she was **so** going to kick his ass when she got free - when another flash of lightning streaked across the sky, thunder roaring after it. The Space Needle seemed to shake in its wake and she froze on the spot, feeling the vibrations running up through her legs and through her hands where they were still wrapped around the window frame.

Alec's grip on her tightened, his fingers digging into the skin of her side even through the fabric of her jacket. His other hand was up against the window frame now, barely a hairsbreadth away from hers. If she moved her fingers slightly, they'd touch.

"Jesus," Alec breathed in her ear. Nothing else, just that soft, startled 'Jesus', from Alec - the same Alec who smirked while he told her that he wasn't destined for hell. How could he be when every church leader they'd seen being interviewed on his boob tube were categorical about it?

Transgenics - being man made - couldn't have souls.

Whatever Alec did have was awed, if that soft sound was any judge. Of course, being Alec all that meant was that 'awed' didn't translate into 'silent'.

"Now, **that** was impressive."

His arm slid further around her waist as he leaned forward, pushing their bodies even more closely together. His breath brushed hotly against her face and his fingers finally touched hers, curling around them as he leaned forward, peering out and up into the night sky.

His face was so close she could see every eyelash, outlined against the night sky. So close that if she turned her head, closed her eyes, her own eyelashes would have tickled the soft skin by his ear. A little further, and her lips would have brushed his cheek.

She kept her eyes open, her head still. She had no idea if this closeness was intentional, as though anything Alec did **wasn't**, but it sent another shiver through her, nothing to do with cold and little to do with the storm outside. He didn't notice or did and didn't let on, which was close enough for government work. Close enough for Max at least.

Too close for Max, and she had to fight that urge to turn her head, lean back and press harder against his body, all broad shoulders and fluid lines. He was damp; they both were, but she could ignore the scent of rain on her the way she couldn't ignore it on him. Not when the water was evaporating slowly from his clothes, dried out by the hyped up heat of his body, surrounding her with the smell of damp cotton and leather and rain and overlaid over all that the scent that she recognised as uniquely Alec.

He didn't smell like Ben. Ben had smelled like a child when they'd run - puberty hadn't kicked in, and his scent had been crisp and clear, not musky and complex. And later, he'd been lost and smelled like it, too - his scent sharp and fractured, as confused as his mind. He'd smelled wrong and Alec...

Alec didn't.

She'd been silent too long. Any second now he'd be in her face, wanting to know what was up, what fucked up part of her psyche was bothering her this time. He wouldn't phrase it like that, of course. If she was really unlucky, he'd phrase it in a way that meant she couldn't justify kicking his ass. He...

Damn, he was too close, his fingers a warm presence against hers as he leant out just a little further, looking down this time instead of up. Watching the traffic below, ants made misty by the rain. Or maybe just thinking Alec type thoughts, and most of the time she had no goddamned idea what those would be.

He felt good and he smelled good and she was tired - tired of running, tired of fighting, tired of losing **everything**. It was almost overwhelming, that temptation to press back, to let him take her weight, just for a moment. Just one, too brief second of leaning on someone, even if that someone was Alec.

But she was Max Guevara, revved up and ass kicking, and she was a hell of a lot better at taking the offensive than at lying down and just taking it. She started to pull away and his grip on her tightened instinctively. Just for a moment and for that one moment she took it, didn't fight it. Didn't fight **him**.

It pissed her off, being that weak - showing that weakness to Alec. It set her teeth on edge and the hairs up on the back of her neck, and put a snarl on her lips, but he was letting go almost as soon as she registered it, his fingers sliding smoothly over the curve of her belly and up the line of her hip, lingering just long enough to crumble her defences but not long enough to help her build them back up again, fortified by her anger, the anger he'd take.

Something treacherous and not to be trusted inside her wanted those fingers back, steadying and soft, and that - finally - pissed her off, pushing her over the edge from fragile to furious. She'd wanted to lean back - now she **pushed** back, **ground** back against him, a slow, steady roll of her hips that had him gasping in her ear, the sound shocked and a little broken. Real, like she'd knocked his façade down and if she looked, there would be Alec staring right back at her.

There was a kind of savage glee in it, in catching hold of his hand before he could pull back further, and pressing his fingers against the skin of her stomach, where her shirt had ridden up a little. In moving her other hand so that it now trapped his between hers and the window frame, pushing down until the metal started to bite. The gasp in her ear this time could have been pain or it could have been something else entirely. They were both fucked up enough for her not to be able to tell the difference.

Alec was still behind her, barely breathing. She closed her eyes, feeling the tension in his frame. For long seconds, they hung there motionless before he tried to ease away from her again.

She didn't let him, and she wasn't kind. She never was with Alec. Didn't know how to be, not really. Her fingers pressed his harder against the window frame, and his flexed beneath her, seeking release.

He didn't protest though, not at first, his breath now coming hot and heavy on her neck and his body warm and tight against her back. She kept her eyes closed and this time her hips **rolled**, pushing back against him slowly, like she had all of the time in the world. Like there wasn't a storm raging, inside and out.

Now he made a sound, the "Max" coming out like a protest and a plea all at once. She refused to give him what he wanted - or maybe she did, flush with power, with energy. With fury.

She pushed back again, slower still, rocking. This time his fingers flexed convulsively under hers - both on the window edge and on her stomach - and stilled. He was panting now, a hitch in his breath that hadn't been there before. One she'd never heard, not from Alec.

She opened her eyes just as another flash of lightning streaked across the sky. She hung there, suspended in the brilliant light for that split second when everything stopped. It was instinct to lean forward, to try and see better, peering up into the sky. Instinct to loosen her grip on Alec's fingers pressed against the window frame.

It was probably instinct that had Alec grabbing for her instead of fleeing now that she'd given him his out. Instinct that had him pulling his fingers out from under hers and wrapping both arms around her waist, pulling her sharply back against him as though afraid she'd fall.

She was in no danger of falling, not from the Space Needle.

She let him catch her, let him pull her back and hold her tight. She closed her eyes again; she could still see the after image, burned on her retinas, the rods firing even after the stimulus was removed. She was transgenic - it wouldn't last for long. Nothing ever did.

Alec's fingers were pressed back against the skin of her waist, holding her tight, his other arm wrapped just under her breasts, enveloping her in his grip. She thought - for a split second she thought - that she felt his mouth pressing against the curve of her neck, the fabric pulled tight and down by his hold on her.

Maybe she'd imagined it - wishful thinking - because a second later his head was up, staring past her into the night, as his breath stirred her hair. She missed the heat of it against her neck. His body, though, his body was a warm solid presence against her back, holding her steady, his feet bracketing hers, one knee pressing into her thigh to the point of pain. The muscles in his arms were tensed, holding her firmly against him, and she could feel the pounding rhythm of his heart against her back.

If she let go, leaned back instead of forward, her head would fit in the hollow of his shoulder, cushioned against his neck. She knew that without even having to look. She wanted to believe that knowledge was instinct, too, wanted the comfort of that lie.

She shifted, neither forward nor back, unwilling - unable - to commit one way or the other, but Alec's grip on her loosened anyway. His fingertips slid across her sensitised skin as he started to pull away, and she didn't stop him.

Not this time.

It was weird how cold she felt when he was no longer pressed against her back. Weird because Max didn't feel the cold, not with her fucked up metabolism and her fucked up life. She'd probably fucked up whatever weird kind of friendship dealio she had going on with Alec as well, finally driven him away when nothing else had, even when she'd wanted it to.

She didn't want it to now, although she had no idea why.

When she finally turned, fingers gripping the metal window frame until it bit into her flesh this time, Alec was watching her, the look on his face that wary one, a little broken around the edges. The one that said he knew she was about to throw the next punch and he was wondering where it was going to land.

It just made her want to hit him harder. But it wouldn't work. The punches he could deal - had dealt - with. It was the other things she threw at him, the words he had no defences against and that took longer to heal that put that look on his face, watchful and wary and broken. Like when she told him she should have let his head explode. That the world would be better off without him. That **she** would be better off without him.

Lies were always easier to swallow when they were wrapped up in a veneer of truth. Manticore had taught her that. She'd like to think that they'd taught her the cruelty of delivery that went with it too, but she'd be lying to herself.

That was all her.

And Alec - damn him - was so quick to forgive her fury, never seeming to bear a grudge and always coming back for more. She came close to hating him for that, sometimes. That more than anything.

He'd forgive but he wouldn't forget. He'd never let her off the hook entirely, wouldn't let her wriggle away from the things she didn't want to deal with. And she was running out of things to throw at him, things to put him off the scent and get him the hell out of her face.

Damn him.

"Okay..." He moved, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, the one that was closest to her escape route. It was subtle but not so subtle she missed it; just enough to let her know that if she ran again, he'd be hard on her heels, maybe even beat her to the door. He wasn't letting her wriggle her way out of this one either.

She couldn't blame him for that one. Not this time. Not even when she wanted to.

"You wanna...?"

"Fight, flight or fuck," she ground out. She took a deep breath, holding it inside. It didn't help. Her fingernails were digging into her palms now, not the window frame and the energy was still thrumming through her, setting her teeth on edge.

He blinked at her, his quick mind obviously whirring away behind the politely blank look on his face. She wasn't fooled, already shifting her weight and calculating how fast she'd have to move and at what angle to beat him to the door and get a head start down the stairs, when he said, "Fight."

That threw her off balance and she paused, balanced on the cusp of flight, as he moved, slowly shifting his stance to a defensive one. The muscles shifted under his jacket, his pupils dilating, ready for her. She could smell the tension rising in him, thick and heady.

She could smell him, all Alec, all around her.

He blocked her first kick and then her second, stepping back out of range and pacing sideways around her, watching her carefully. He was making no effort to land his own blows and that just pissed her off. She didn't pull the punch she aimed at his head, putting the full force of her anger, her frustration behind it. He managed to duck that one, too, but only just and the effort of avoiding it pushed him off balance enough for the follow through blow to catch him high in the shoulder.

He hissed and staggered back a couple of steps, his eyes flashing in time with the lightning still raging outside. His fists came up again but they were still defensive; he was watching her warily over them, his momentary anger swallowed down.

She narrowed her eyes at him and feinted left before attacking to the right. He anticipated her move, dancing out of reach and now - finally - trying to land a hit of his own. There was no heat behind it, no serious attempt to knock her back or knock her down and she cut underneath his defences, catching him another glancing blow, this time on his thigh with her foot.

It pushed him back again, more than a couple of steps and he favoured that leg on his next strike, telegraphing his move. She leapt neatly out of reach, heart racing, breath panting through her parted lips, feeling alive, reckless. Free.

Feeling **something**.

He pulled back, watching her, his expression considering and she swung in again, low this time, trying to kick his feet out from underneath him. He jumped, flipping backwards out of reach again when she followed through with a spinning kick, aimed at his stomach. When he landed neatly, he grinned at her, eyes alight and his teeth bared.

She matched his grin with one of her own, savage and gleeful, and this time she aimed the kick at his head, keeping up the pressure as he ducked and weaved out of reach, almost dancing around the broken chairs, using the shattered table to the left of them as a springboard to spin himself out of her reach.

He was still concentrating on avoiding her rather than landing some blows of his own and she redoubled her efforts. This time the glancing blow she got in smacked him in the face, splitting his lip but not hard or deep enough to do more damage than that.

She could do better than this - had even done so the last time they'd sparred, when she'd gone up against 'Monty Cora' and kicked his ass. Kicked his ass and kicked him to the curb, and there was no way that Alec was going to be able to stop her doing it again. She drew back, watching as he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and took it away again, staring down for a moment at the dark red blood smeared across his knuckles. It had smeared around his mouth as well, and she could smell it on the air. It left a taste on her tongue, as metallic as the raging storm.

She licked her lips and his pupils dilated again, reflecting back the lightning that rent the air outside. She wanted... She wanted...

He ducked under her defences and came in hard and fast, jabs and punches pushing her back. Fight. He'd chosen fight, and she'd kick his ass for it.

She took a blow to her shoulder, using the momentum of it to spin herself round and land a kick on the back of his knee. It sent him staggering forward but he recovered as fast as she did and was already facing her, hands loosely fisted at chest height, waiting for the next blow, when she reoriented herself, spinning round to face him.

She scowled and he smiled. A microcosm of every interaction between them ever, even down to the way his smile morphed into a smirk as he took a couple of steps away from her, hazel eyes watching her intently the whole time.

Another flurry of blows, driving him back, and now the adrenaline was raging through her, heightening all of her senses and making everything crisp and clear and simple. He blocked her, still watching her, and she flipped out of reach, coming down behind him. He turned, too slowly this time, banging his hip into another broken down chair in this broken down place. It caught him off balance and she took him down the rest of the way, neatly knocking his feet out from underneath him and following him down to pin him to the floor.

His head hit with a thump; the shock of it rocked through her and she was left staring down at him as the pain of it flared briefly across his face. It was quickly hidden and for once he didn't bitch or moan about it. The words to mock him died on her lips, silenced by the way her heart stuttered in her chest. His eyes were open and met hers, holding them, pupils blown wide and dark, ringed by green and gold.

He swallowed silently, not moving an inch as she hung there above him, muscles locked rigid by the electricity that flared in the night outside and in here, between them. It froze her in place, keeping her suspended above him like a fly in amber, caught up in his eyes and all the things that were raging in them, contrasting with the stillness of his body beneath hers. Then he licked his lip, eyes never leaving hers, and muttered a low, heart-felt, "Fuck."

This time it was her mouth that did the damage, hitting him hard and knocking him off balance. She tasted blood as his lip split again under her touch, hot and salty on her tongue as she traced a line across the damaged flesh. His body tensed under hers, the muscles of his arms flexing beneath her hands but she tightened her grip, holding him still for long moments while the storm thundered in her ears, in her chest.

When she pulled back, his eyes were closed and his face slack, his lip cracked and swollen where she'd first hit and then bitten it. As she watched, his eyes slowly opened, the expression on his face close to drugged, like he **could** be drugged, with a body like his. A body like hers.

He met her halfway this time, fierce and forceful, twisting in her grip as she held him down, ravaging his mouth again. He could buck her off easily, if he wanted to. She was barely holding on, but he didn't seem to want her gone. All he seemed to want was her: the taste of her, the fierce, slick heat of her mouth on his.

She moved her hands up his arms, keeping the pressure up even as she slid and slithered over him, pinning him down until she reached his shoulders, the back of his neck. One hand fisted in the collar of his jacket, the other in the too-long strands of his hair and now he fought back, his hands as hard, strong, bruising as hers had been. They wrapped around her back, pulling her closer, fingers digging into the muscles, not letting her escape.

Escape was the last thing on her mind. The storm was still raging and the rain thundered down. There was nowhere to run to. Not any more.

He flipped her and it was her turn to hit the floor, coming down hard and jarring on the concrete. She bit her tongue as she fell; the blood she tasted this time was hers but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Nothing but this. He followed her down like he'd followed her here, pushing past her barriers, pushing her to the edge. His lips were moving over hers and his tongue was in mouth; she couldn't tell any longer whether the metallic taste on her tongue came from her blood or his.

That didn't matter either. All that mattered was the long, hard weight of his body pressing her down into the concrete and the scent of his blood in the air.

He pulled back as far as the hand she had tangled in his hair would let him, the expression on his face clearing as he said, "Max?" It was a question she didn't want to answer - didn't even want to acknowledge - and she twisted her fingers harder, pressing her mouth against his and swallowing down the gasp of pain he let out.

He pushed her back down, settling his weight between her parted thighs and she arched up into his touch, his lips only grazing hers. She reached up for another taste and he teased her again, pulling back just far enough so that all she got was a taste, a taste when she wanted to dive in, overindulge. She growled and he laughed, high and mocking, sure of his ground now.

At least until she dug her heel into the concrete and spun them, grinning ferally when his head hit the deck again and swallowing down that gasp of pain as well.

His pushed her up and pulled her down, fingers sliding up underneath her top to brush along the bottom curve of her breasts. He was still between her thighs and she rocked her hips down, sliding them backwards. The gasp she swallowed down this time wasn't pain. Not quite.

Thunder rolled again, closer this time until the whole room seemed to reverberate with it, a low rumble that hit her low in the belly. The wind swirled and brought the rain in with it, spattering across her heated skin. Alec's mouth followed it, warm where the raindrops had been cold, and his fingers curled, digging into her skin, stopping just short of pain.

He was too slow, too soft when what she wanted was fire and ice and thunder and rage. She grabbed at his collar again, barely registering when the fabric of his sweater tore under her grip, and sank her teeth into the junction of his neck, the place where it curved into his broad shoulder.

He swore, growling out the curse even as he tugged her head back by her hair. The brief, sharp pain did nothing to calm her down, not when the storm still raged inside her and she could taste his blood again on her tongue, heady and thick with promise.

She was laughing when he rolled them again and he froze for a second, staring down at her, his eyes still dark with lust. Then he grinned back, sharp and feral and real. His kiss this time was as hard as she needed - all teeth and tongue and heat - and she moaned as he touched her with fierce, steady hands, the strong fingers sliding over her skin. It wasn't too much - it couldn't ever be too much - and this time he held nothing back, knowing that she could match him, strength for strength, beat for beat.

She dug her fingers into his back in return, sliding them under his shirt and pulling him closer, giving no quarter and expecting none. He hissed into her mouth when her fingers became talons, scratching his skin like the cat she was. His hips bucked into her, hard, and she threw back her head, a sharp little mew escaping her as she writhed against him.

The grin he gave her this time when she opened her eyes, panting and lost, was victorious, but she wasn't willing to concede defeat just yet. They were both cats; when she slid her hand around to wrestle with the buttons of his pants, the sound he let out this time was closer to a purr than a hiss, at least until the fingers she'd left resting on his back curved again, becoming another weapon to use against him. They dug in, maybe even to the point of drawing blood again, but he twisted his body, sliding away from her vicious fingers, and laughed into her mouth before she could taste it. She swallowed it down but eased up on the pressure, the scratching coming close - as close as she'd allow - to a caress.

He didn't pull back until she slid one hand inside his pants, and then he didn't pull back far; just far enough to watch her. His face was still slack with lust, lips swollen and parted, but the eyes that watched her were clear and cool, seeing far too much for her peace of mind. He licked at his lips again, still watching her, and she growled, once more caught on the cusp between fight, flight and fuck. And then, just at the point where flight or fight seemed like the most viable option, he closed his eyes and relaxed into her touch, rolling his hips as her fingers dipped lower and lower, outlining the shape of his dick in his underwear. Then he arched, caught between sensations as she dragged her fingers along the length of his spine, as far as she could reach under his shirt.

She wanted more than that - more than just twisting just her fingers as far as she could reach under the clothing that separated her skin from his and steal a touch or two. She wanted heat and thunder and skin against sweaty skin. She wanted... everything. Fight and fuck.

His jacket went first, pushed down over his arms, and hers followed, hands battling each other as they both tried to strip the other first. Her jacket flew somewhere over his head and she growled in frustration when he let go of her so she could push his off entirely. She didn't miss the smirk he gave at the sounds she made as she ripped his sweater off over his head. This time he hissed when the fabric caught on his ears, the t-shirt coming with it, both cast aside, inside out, as far as she could fling them. She'd have returned his smirk - with interest - if she'd had any interest in anything but getting him naked by that point, but she was lost in the smooth flesh she could now explore with ease. His brief protestation turned into another moan when the hand she still had in his pants slid in deeper, underneath the fabric now, tracing along the long, lean line of his dick, hot and heavy in her hungry grasp.

She curled her fingers, moving them back and forth and feeling the slick slide of his foreskin move with her as he buried his face in her neck. Seemed they were all the same, men. Transgenic or not. Get their dicks in your hand and they would do pretty much anything you wanted just so you wouldn't stop.

Alec's hand slid slowly up the length of her arm, his fingers slipping under the edge of her short sleeve to stroke across the flesh there, too delicately for her taste. She let out another harsh sound of frustration and pulled back to yank the black fabric up over her head, shaking her hair free.

It was still hanging off one arm when he pounced, his mouth moving down over the curve of her chest, nipping at the tender skin that spilled out of black lace. She expected him to comment about it as he traced the edge of her bra with one finger - some smart ass remark about her being a girl after all - but instead he ducked lower, mouthing at her breast through the fabric and any smart remarks she had on the tip of her tongue to offer him in return were smothered by her low moan.

He pushed her back down onto the cold concrete floor, fingers already tugging at the filmy fabric as he followed her down. She turned her head, staring mindlessly out into the night where the rain still thrummed down and the thunder still roared as the sensation of his touch spread like fire over her skin.

He was good at this, and she tried not to think about Manticore training as he rolled the tight nub with his tongue. It was rough, like a cat's, and she arched into his touch, her hips and heels stuttering on the floor as she swallowed another cry. This time he caught her nipple between his teeth, tugging gently but with just enough pressure to remind her of his strength.

The feeling went straight through her, electricity thrumming through her body and leaving her wet and aching as she pressed herself against him. She slid her fingers through his hair, tugging him where she wanted him as he moved from one breast to the other and she wrapped one thigh around his, rocking against the hardness that pressed into her.

He was **really** good at this, and it couldn't all be because of Manticore and enhanced genes. But he was also a fucking tease, and she lifted one knee, using it to push him back far enough that she could wrestle with the fastenings of her pants. He smirked again, settling back to enjoy the view, and she scowled, planting her foot firmly in his chest and toppling him over.

He laughed, the jerk, eyes dancing as she followed him, still scowling but with her pants now unfastened. Lightning flashed across the sky outside and it must have lit something in her expression, because the laughter died from his face, leaving it stark in the moonlight. Stark and lean and hungry.

He reached for her again, pulling her down, his fingers reaching around her to unfasten her bra before that, too, was discarded. The lace scratched a little as he pulled it from her skin but his mouth was there, hot and wet, moving slowly over her chest, nipping and suckling as she gripped his biceps with tight fingers and tried to hold on.

His fingers trailed down her flat stomach, drifting past the dip of her navel before sliding into her open pants, under the flimsy fabric of her panties and then lower still, into the wet heat of her. She arched under his touch, and not even the grip she had on his arms steadied her as those same fingers pushed into her, roughly, driving a harsh cry from her lips.

He turned the tables on her again, pushing her sideways until gravity took over and sent her reeling. As she fell, twisting beneath him, he wrapped his arm behind her head, shielding her skull before it could crack open on the floor. The fall still jarred her; she was unable to land with her innate grace with Alec up so close and personal. Even closer and personal as his mouth covered hers before she'd even caught her breath. She bit his lip for his presumption and he laughed again, his body shivering against hers. There was rubble under her back and she hissed, shifting position as he moved with her, the bare flesh of his chest warm and firm against hers and the bare stone floor cold beneath her. His mouth was savage, his tongue merciless as it explored her mouth, his fingers finally slipping out of her as the pair of them wrestled, her fingernails scratching at his scalp, his shoulders, his back.

He tugged her pants down, tearing at her underwear until they gave, the fabric stinging against her skin as the threads ripped. She hissed against his mouth and his fingers came back, stroking over her hip soothingly until she growled at him again, not wanting to accept the apology or the petting, and tugged his clothing down just as viciously, all teeth and nails and need.

He jerked back, pulling impatiently at her boots as she pushed herself up on her elbows, her back a symphony of scratches and small pains and her hair a tangled mess in front of her eyes. With a huff, she pushed it back, behind her ears, not missing the smirk he gave again at that. There was blood on his chest, small beads of it where her nails had hit home. She grinned, just as wild and savage, and had the satisfaction of seeing his expression grow wary, the one boot of hers he'd managed to yank off falling to the floor with a loud thump.

Launching herself at him would have been too easy, something he expected, and she liked the illusion of being able to keep Alec off balance, even for a moment. Instead of throwing him to the floor, she arched her back, rolling her body sinuously and watching as his gaze, predictably, dropped straight to her bare breasts. She barely had time to enjoy that - and to roll her eyes, inwardly if not letting it show, at the confirmation that he was male and stupid, as if that needed any confirmation - before he licked his lips again and the heat of his regard hit her hard, low in her belly, turning her limbs to liquid.

Maybe she was just as predictable. He smirked again and she placed the sole of her still booted foot firmly in the middle of his chest, ignoring his raised eyebrow. His smirk, if anything, became more pronounced but his eyes were still watchful, even as his fingers began to wrestle with her laces.

Good. It was worth reminding him that she wasn't one of his Ordinary distractions.

Her other boot came off and was thrown back over his shoulder to land somewhere behind him. His eyes were still focused firmly on her face, his expression now tense, just as focused, like she was a problem he needed to figure out. She'd have kicked his ass - again - if her attention hadn't been drawn down to where his strong, clever fingers were finishing what she'd started - peeling his pants away from his body.

Fight, flight or fuck.

Out of all of them, fucking was the one that would remind her she was alive. She was so fucking tired of running, and he moved with an innate grace that just left her hungry and wanting.

She'd had enough of fighting and maybe she'd find a victory of sorts in defeat.

"Wait," he gasped as she pulled at him, trying to drag him back down. "Max..."

She bit at his neck, scratched deeply at his back, and he swore, low and viciously. This time the blood she tasted was hers and the sound she let out wasn't a gasp, but a mew; needy and low and just as vicious. He managed to push her far enough away to scrabble at his jacket, pulling his wallet from the pocket so hard that she could hear the seam tear.

He didn't notice. He'd curse her for it later, whine about how it was his favourite, but now his clever fingers were pulling the foil packet free, and he ripped at it with sharp teeth before he rolled the condom down over his length.

His fingers shook. She didn't need to be transgenic to pick up on that.

She'd thought she was ready for him, more than ready for him, but he shoved into her hard and deep, shifting her back a couple of inches along the floor. Grit ground into her skin, stinging with sweat, and she opened her eyes, staring sightlessly at the ceiling as he thrust in again, the metal button from his pants digging into her thigh. His breath panted harshly against her ear and this time he slid in smoothly, still deep, still hard and sending her eyes rolling back in her head.

She dug her nails into his shoulder, gouging this time rather than just scratching, lost in the storm that swirled through her. She tore at him, teeth and nails, sinking her teeth into his shoulder, and he swore again, slamming into her once, twice. Three times.

Her world came apart as lightning flashed across the sky and she was lost, suspended in the storm.

The after images were still burning bright on her retinas, behind her closed lids, when he slowed. For a moment she thought he'd come with her but he rolled his hips again sinuously, still hard, still buried in her. It set off little shivers, aftershocks rolling through her like the thunder she could hear ringing in her ears.

She shifted slightly, clenching her muscles, her fingers sliding over his skin. He gasped, pressing his mouth against hers for a moment before that too slid away, down over her cheek. She was too drained to hurry him so that she could get the hell out of Dodge, get back to the flight portion of the evening where it was safe. Instead she let her head fall back, the tension easing from her limbs as he shifted, too. It left a heavy, pleasant exhaustion in its wake and that should have scared her.

Her head should have hit the cold floor, knocked some goddamned sense into her, but his forearm was there, resting behind her and bracing him above her, both at once. Trust Alec to be too good at multitasking, but betting Manticore hadn't taught him that as well would be a sucker bet and Max was no sucker. Not usually.

He rolled his hips again, sliding in slow and sweet, and she got back with the programme, forcing her heavy eyelids open to look at him. His lip was caught between his teeth, the flesh swollen and red where she'd bitten it, and his eyes were closed, a slight frown between his brows as he rocked into her again, setting off another flurry of those little aftershocks. She shifted slightly, the muscles in her pussy tightening around him, and the frown eased, his lips parting in a soft gasp.

She did it again and his eyes drifted open, dazed and mindless. He stared down at her for a second before the smirk reappeared, blurred around the edges with lust and other things she didn't want to think about. He slid into her again, slowly, his body twisting slightly to one side so that he could pull her leg up until it rested over his hip. His next thrust was deeper and she sighed, arching into him, fingers flexing convulsively on his skin.

His free hand slid down from her knee and along her thigh, slowly, setting each and every inch of her skin tingling. It was too soft, too gentle, and she... and she...

She didn't want this. She didn't. Not even now, with her fury spent, all washed out and blown away. It was too much, his touch close to painful simply because it was as far from pain as any touch she could remember. She closed her eyes, tilting her face away from him, and his lips brushed over her cheek rather than her mouth, sliding up to the edge of her hairline.

"Max."

It came out as a whisper and she kept her eyes closed, didn't answer him.

He shifted again and there was dust in her hair, the hard floor underneath her skull. He was hovering over her now - she could feel him, his breath on her face, his belly pressed against hers, the coarse hairs of his treasure trail pressed against her soft skin. He was still moving slowly, bracing himself on both arms, one on either side of her head. She didn't need to see him to know where he was, to be able to picture the look on his face, but she opened her eyes anyway.

He kissed her again, soft and demanding all at once, a study in contradictions the way only Alec could be. This time she let him, opening her mouth to him, at first just letting his tongue slide along her teeth then meeting it with her own, tangling the two together as heat slid down to her belly, pooling there as she moaned into his mouth.

"Max," he whispered again, against her lips. "Max," against her cheek, her temple. His mouth traced over her brow, fluttered against her eyelids and she pulled her other leg up, her calf pressing against the backs of his thigh, both knees now around his waist.

He pushed himself up on both arms, his lips finally leaving her skin, and rocked back into her again, slow and deep. The pressure built again, more slowly this time, each stroke adding to it, small increments that took her closer and closer to the edge. She brought her knees up until her heels crossed each other on his ass, her hands tugging at his shoulder blades, pulling him in deeper and deeper. It wasn't enough, and she slid her hands lower, letting them glide across the firm contours of his back, a brief moment of weakness that allowed her to memorise the scent of him, the sensation of his smooth skin under her hands.

No scars on the outside but plenty to see when she opened her eyes and stared straight into his.

She closed hers again, turned her face to the side so he wouldn't see the same things on her face that were written clearly on his. He didn't seem to care, shifting again so that his weight now rested on her, arms again braced on the concrete around her head and his breath stirring her hair.

He was close - she could hear the hitch in his breath, feel the tenseness in the muscles of his stomach where they pressed against hers. Now that he was almost there, she didn't want him to stop, not when she was so close to coming again herself. That was selfish of her, she knew it, but she just didn't care - it had been so damned long since she'd been touched and now that he was touching her just right, she wanted the heat of it to spiral through her again, take her down into sweet oblivion. She wanted... She wanted...

She hitched her legs higher up his body, sliding her hands over his ass, down under the fabric of his jeans, pushing the fabric down further until there was nothing but his skin and hers. She pulled him to her, encouraging him to thrust faster, deeper, to direct the pressure of his thrusts right where she needed it the most. The tension in her was winding higher and higher until she thought she'd scream with the pleasure of it, and he gasped in her ear again, whatever words he was saying lost in the rush of blood to her head. He was coming, his dick hard and thick in her, filling her and that sensation was all it took to carry her those last few inches.

It washed over her this time, soft and slow instead of ripping her apart, the ripples of pleasure swirling through her body. Her fingers clutched at him involuntarily as she shook and gasped, pulling him closer, until his body blanketed hers, pressing her into the ground. His hands were tangled in her hair but they weren't pulling, not this time, even though the long strands slipped through his fingers as her head tossed, lost in the throes of her orgasm. His palm lightly cupped the curve of her skull, and his face was buried in her neck, muffling whatever sounds he let out as he came.

He collapsed onto her, a heavy, heated weight, and she opened her eyes, staring at the peeling ceiling. The wind swirled again, bringing the rain, but it lacked the hard, cold bite of earlier, the storm finally dying. Alec's face was still pressed against her neck, his breath hot against her skin as his grip on her slowly slackened. He shifted against her and she stifled another gasp, her entire body thrumming. She was too sensitive; his damp jeans rubbed against the skin of her thighs, and he was still in her, his dick shifting as he moved, softening now, but pressing heavily against her clit.

She let go of him, letting her hands slide down his sweaty sides and fall limply to the floor. Maybe he took that as his cue, because he slid out of her then, one hand going down to catch hold of the condom, slipping it off his length as he rose to his knees. He looked ridiculous with his jeans hanging low on his hips and dick still exposed. His hair was tousled, and small beads of blood still decorated his chest where she'd scratched him. He looked ridiculous. He looked...

He was back to watching her, his head tilted to one side and his expression almost amused. She scowled at him but his expression didn't change, still watching her closely with something in his eyes she didn't want to see. She turned her head to avoid it and pushed herself up onto her elbows, rolling over gracefully to one side to push herself to her feet. She would have flipped herself up but...

Her thighs ached and her limbs felt heavy, like she'd been well and truly fucked. It was far from a bad feeling, and she couldn't help resenting that it was Alec that had delivered it. She felt her scowl deepen, and busied herself gathering her clothes together, determined to project an air of caring as little as he seemed to.

"I guess we're back to the flight portion of tonight's entertainment, huh?" Alec asked, his voice - she was pleased to notice - a little hoarse. She turned to face him and his gaze, once again, dropping to her bare breasts. She didn't bother to hide the scowl from him this time, pulling her bra on pointedly and not bothering to reply as he sighed, finally raising his eyes to her face.

"Well, Alec, it's been swell," he ad-libbed, back to mocking because that was where he felt safest and something in her twisted, shame silencing her automatic and angry response. "We must do this again sometime." The look in his eyes was guarded, and he leant back, the tension starting to build again in his frame. It had nothing to do with heat and thunder, not this time.

She'd never been good at the morning after.

Alec pushed himself to his feet, with more grace than she had, his hands moving to fasten his jeans back up again. It was almost absent, like he was comfortable in his own skin, bare or not. Manticore training again. He snatched up his sweater and headed towards the window, staring out into the darkness outside.

"Rain's stopped," he said, pausing to pull his top back over his head before he turned to face her. The neck was shapeless where she'd torn it, and his fingers lingered there for a moment, his expression rueful. The expectant complaint didn't come, even though she'd braced herself for it. Instead he leant back against the wall, folding his arms and eyeing her in a way that made something in her stomach to twist again, but not with shame this time. She ignored him, eyes scanning around the room until she located her own top and stalking over to it. It was safer that way. "Wanna grab a beer?" Not that Alec would co-operate.

She didn't turn to face him until she'd also pulled her top back on; he might be comfortable enough in his own skin to have started this awkward conversation with his dick hanging out, but Max had been out of Manticore for longer. She'd shaken off most of their training and thought it a good thing. It was. Mostly.

She let the silence stretch out between them, hip cocked and all attitude. As expected, Alec caved first, but he did it with a smirk and a little more warmth in his eyes than usual, back to throwing her off balance again, just for a moment. Then he moved, heading towards her slowly, smoothly, his shoulders flexing just for a moment, just enough to distract her for a split second. When she looked back, his smirk was deeper, and his eyes back to opaque and unreadable.

"If we're back to the flight part of the evening," he drawled, coming just close enough to her personal space to have her tensing but not so close that she could kick his ass for it, not even when he leant in, just a fraction, to elaborate. "What say I beat you back to _Crash_?"

He gave her just long enough for the words to sink in and then darted towards the top of the stairs, pausing to throw her a brilliant smile. And then he was gone, the sound of his footsteps echoing back to her long after anyone else would have heard them.

He was right. The storm outside had eased and the rain stopped, and faint signs of dawn were evident on the horizon, 'though the city would still be jumping as it always did. She hesitated for a moment, staring out at the sky, washed clear of the dust and the smog, as the air settled crisply in her lungs, and then she smiled, quick and sharp, and followed him.

_If the sky can crack, there must be some way back  
For love and only love_

\- Electrical Storm, U2

The End


End file.
